


Nooks and Crannies - Heritage

by kete



Series: Nooks and Crannies [6]
Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, different POV, gapfiller, sixth episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-22
Updated: 2010-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kete/pseuds/kete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sixth episode retold from Silas' POV: Tom Barkley has left unfinished business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nooks and Crannies - Heritage

There's trouble up at Camp Lonesome. The miners at the Barkley Sierra Mining Co. are on strike and the family ain't happy 'bout it. Even worse, there's been a bomb and one man's dead, another hurt bad.

"Bombings and murder!" Mr. Jarrod, he says, when they're sittin' in the library after dinner an evenin' a few weeks after Christmas. "I don't understand it. We've never had trouble like this at the mine before."

"How deeply involved are we?" asks Miz Victoria, who's sittin' across from Mr. Nick, both engaged in a game of chess.

"Enough to get hurt," says Mr. Jarrod. "Ten thousand shares."

"Then why don't we sell out?" asks Miss Audra, sittin' on the settee pretendin' to read.

"Because since the strike, we wouldn't be able to get anywhere near their market value," Mr. Jarrod explains, pacin'.

"If the governor had any guts, he'd move the troops in up there," Mr. Nick remarks in a hard voice, lookin' thoroughly disgusted at the idea that anyone dares to disturb his family's business ventures.

"Now wait a minute," says Mr. Heath, appropriatin' Mr. Nick's favorite line as he's perchin' on the desk and polishin' a rifle. That boy, he jus' don't know how to sit idle. Even in his leisure time he's always mendin' or cleanin' some bit of bridle or harness, polishin' or refurbishin' one of them weapons or splicin' a rope. I never have to dust the gun cabinet no more and them rifles are all gleamin' like new.

"They're destroying private property," Mr. Nick says, blowin' out the smoke of his cigar so's he looks as if he's lettin' off steam. Well, he prob'ly is.

"Troops aren't the answer," Mr. Heath opposes him. 'Tis rare that he speaks openly against Mr. Nick.

"Well, what is the answer?" Mr. Nick dares him.

"Nick, why don't you ride up there as soon as possible and find out what's it all about?" Mr. Jarrod suggests before Mr. Heath can take up the gauntlet.

Mr. Nick nods. "Tomorrow morning."

"Better let me," says Mr. Heath. "Sounds like my kind of job."

"Now, what makes you say that?" Mr. Nick asks, grinnin'. He's still more often the boss than the brother and don't seem inclined to let Mr. Heath off the curb anytime soon.

"Oh, I've seen the elephant and heard the owl, brother," Mr. Heath remarks airily. "You haven't. Worked in the mines, remember?"

I done seen an elephant, too, once! 'Twas when the circus was here. But I've no idea what that has to do with minin'...?

And did I hear that right? Mr. Heath's callin' Mr. Nick "brother"? Hallelujah! Seems they're makin' progress.

"I'll leave in the mornin', Jarrod." With that Mr. Heath gets up and walks towards the door.

"Now, wait a minute!" yells Mr. Nick, takin' his line back, while he's jumpin' up and blockin' Mr. Heath's way.

"Heath is right," says Miz Victoria. She been smiling at the brothers' exchange this last half minute and seems inclined to give Mr. Heath her vote of confidence, now that he's strivin' for more independence.

"Nick, what do you say?" asks Mr. Jarrod.

"Well," Mr. Nick grumbles and gives way, "I got other things to do."

"All right, then that settles it," says Mr. Jarrod.

Mr. Heath opens the door, but Mr. Jarrod stops him. "Heath! When you get up there talk to Colin Murdoch. He's been superintendent of the mine since it opened. He'll be able to give you a good picture of what's been going on."

"Right," says Mr. Heath, already half out the door.

Mr. Jarrod stops him again. "And Heath? Remember you'll be representing management, and management seems to be a walking target right now. You watch yourself."

"Yeah," says Mr. Heath, smilin' his crooked smile at Mr. Jarrod, and is gone.

Mr. Nick and Mr. Jarrod exchange a brief glance through the smoke risin' from Mr. Nick's cigar, then Mr. Jarrod turns towards his mother and moves one of her chess pieces. But she'll have nothin' of it and slaps his hand, then puts it back. He accepts her reprimand with a kiss to her temple.

"You think he's up to it?" asks Mr. Nick, sittin' down across from Miz Victoria again.

"Only one way to find out," Mr. Jarrod answers.

"Nick, you've got to let him out from under your thumb one day," Miz Victoria, she says. "And the last time he did something on his own turned out very well, don't you think?"

"That was different," Mr. Nick insists.

"How so?" asks Mr. Jarrod. "He was the only one not fooled by Wallent, if you don't mind my saying so."

Mr. Nick puffs his cigar.

"I think your brother has a very keen sense for people, Nick," says Miz Victoria, finally movin' her knight. "It's time we let him make use of it. - Check."

"Oh, no..." mumbles Mr. Nick, starin' at the board in despair. When he looks up again he says, " Yeah, but he's too soft. Have to toughen him up a bit."

"Soft?!" Mr. Jarrod exclaims, chucklin'. "I'd say he's as tough as nails."

"Yeah, well, he is," Mr. Nick allows, "but here..." he thumps his chest with his fist. "He cares too much. Let's too much get to him. Like before Christmas that dam business with Jubal and the kid?"

"I thought that was very sweet," Miss Audra chimes in.

"Sweet?" Mr. Nick exclaims appalled. Sweet ain't his idea of what a man oughta be, I know.

"Yes, sweet," she says. "He really has a way with children. I'm going to ask him to come to the orphanage with me some day."

"He's workin' for me, Audra, don't you forget that," Mr. Nick growls, "he's got no time for playin' around."

"Playing around?" Miss Audra exclaims.

"I think he really cares for people," says Miz Victoria thoughtfully, "and I can't see any harm in that. Your father did, too, though it showed in a different way. - And, yes, Nick, I think your sister is perfectly right. Her work at the orphanage is as important to her as the ranch is to you."

That silences Mr. Nick, who stares at the chess board and broods over his mother's words.

"Coffee?" I ask serenely, presentin' my tray. By the startled looks they all give me I can tell they've totally forgotten I'm here, too.

**********

Two days later a telegram arrives from Camp Lonesome.

"Let me read to you what I got at the office today," Mr. Jarrod says when they're gathered in the parlor for their before dinner drinks.

"A telegram from Heath?" asks Miz Victoria.

"Yes. 'Met Murdoch stop situation unstable stop Hummel cut wages stop about to bring in Chinese strikebreakers stop advise against stop more violence likely stop Heath'."

"Chinese?!" Mr. Nick booms out. "Hummel must be off his rocker! He can't do that."

"It's certainly not the most desirable solution," Mr. Jarrod agrees. "You bring in 500 Chinese laborers by Wednesday and by Thursday they're scattered all the way from Camp Lonesome to the Barbary Coast."

"And what will become of the men who now work the mine - or rather don't work it - and their families?" asks Miz Victoria. "No, we can't have that. We must find a solution with the existing work staff. What is this about cutting wages? Why for heaven's sake did he do that when the mine is producing?"

"Mother, I have no idea," says Mr. Jarrod, "but I'm about to find out. I'll talk to that slippery old thief Hummel tomorrow."

**********

"Well," Mr. Jarrod says three days later after dinner, "I did talk to Hummel. And from what I gathered I wouldn't put it past him that he's behind the strike himself. You know, cut the wages, don't negotiate, then bring in strikebreakers who work for a third of what the Irish take and thus increase the profits.

"At the same time snap up every share of stock on the market at the present low price and sell again when it rises after the strike. It's a win-win deal for him. I told him I'll file a petition signed by the minority shareholders tomorrow, enjoining present management from conducting further company business pending a full stockholders' meeting, and he offered to buy us out for the full market price of the shares before the stock went down.

"All things considered Hummel has made us a pretty fair offer. We could get out of Barkley Sierra without losing any skin," he says as he's walkin' to stand behind Miz Victoria, who's sittin' on the settee drinkin' her coffee.

"You mean we'll get all our money back?" asks Miss Audra from the chair opposite.

"Yep."

"And if we don't accept?" asks Miz Victoria.

"Well, then we're in for a rather expensive fight for control of the company," explains Mr. Jarrod.

"All right, Jarrod, what are our chances?" Mr. Nick, standin' by the fireplace, wants to know.

"Hummel now controls sixty percent of the outstanding shares," answers Mr. Jarrod.

"Then we lost before we start," declares Mr. Nick.

"Not necessarily," Mr. Jarrod disagrees. "We might be able to win over some of the proxies he now holds."

"Ah, let's sell and get out," says Mr. Nick.

"Mother?" Mr. Jarrod asks.

Miz Victoria sighs. "I wonder what he would say..." she muses, looking at Mr. Tom's paintin' above the mantel.

"I'll tell you what he'd say," says Mr. Heath, standin' in the door quite unexpectedly.

"What are you doing back so soon?" exclaims Mr. Jarrod.

"I didn't expect to be back so soon," Mr. Heath answers grimly as he comes in and drops his gunbelt on the table near the windows. "I was chased out by men carryin' ropes. They call themselves the Molly Maguires. Did you ever hear of the Molly Maguires? Any of you?" he challenges them.

Miz Victoria gets up and moves towards him, but stops, held back by his hostile stance. Mr. Nick and Mr. Jarrod turn towards their brother, lookin' rather confounded by his tone of voice. There's this air of quiet fury 'round him, he did last show the night Mr. Nick dragged him into the house.

"Those miners have reached the limit of their endurance," he goes on, leavin' his place at the windows and confrontin' his dismayed family. "The Molly Maguires, one of their secret societies - a violent one - they have the strange notion that it's better to die fightin' than wait like sheep. A very strange and unrealistic people. I don't think you'd like them. Funny thing is, they don't hate the company management nearly as much as they hate the Barkleys."

Molly Maguires... What a strange name for a secret society, 'specially a violent one. That Miss Molly should know better!

"Get to the point, Heath!" Mr. Nick says impatiently. He's very annoyed, I can tell.

"Well, now, I was gonna tell you what he'd do," Mr. Heath says, pointin' at Mr. Tom's portrait.

"Go on," Miz Victoria says softly.

"He'd say, 'Sell out.' He'd say, 'Wipe your hands of the whole dirty mess.' He'd say, 'Take your money and run.'" Mr. Heath marches over to the fireplace and slaps his hand on the mantel.

"What happened up there?" asks Miz Victoria distraught.

"You think those men up at Lonesome Camp are strikin' against Hummel's management? His wage cut? Workin' conditions in the mine?" Mr. Heath asks in a raised voice. And answers himself, "Oh, you're so wrong! They're strikin' against him!" And he slaps the mantel again, as if he'd rather slap the man in the portrait himself.

Mr. Nick looks up at the paintin', unspoken questions in his eyes.

"Heath, I think you better explain that," Mr. Jarrod advises firmly.

"And you explain to me his promises that were never kept," Mr. Heath counters him, and, crossin' the room to lean on the door frame, tosses over his shoulder, "Good housin', safe workin' conditions, decent wages, schools for the children and a company store sellin' at cost. Security for the old and the injured. - What did they get? Leakin' roofs, rotten timberin' in the mines," he heaves a deep breath, "dirty children playin' in the streets and beggin' for pennies, and a company store that charges four prices for everything."

He turns around and confronts them. "Do you know what they eat up there? Potatoes. Potatoes three times a day, seven days a week. And praise the lord when a miracle puts a bite of meat on their plates once in a blue moon."

I think he feels this so deeply 'cause he done lived like that himself most of his life. And while he wouldn't complain 'bout it, he jus' can't stand the thought that the people at Lonesome Camp are payin' for his warm bed and his fine meals with their poverty.

"And as for the old and the crippled, oh, they've got it fine and easy - if they have a daughter who works in a saloon to keep the company roof over their head and enough food from the company store to keep them alive." He's near shoutin' now. I haven't seen him that angry since the first night he came here.

"What he promised them was hope," he concludes, walkin' over to the portrait again, "and what they got was a kick in the teeth. That is why they hate him."

"I don't believe it," says Miz Victoria aghast. "I don't believe it."

She rushes towards him and, standin' in front of him, says, "You're very young and the young are very intolerant. You couldn't understand a man like your father. You couldn't understand how a man might make promises in good faith and then be unable to keep them. You only heard one side of the story. Don't pass judgment on a man you never knew until you hear both sides," she pleads.

Turnin' away from him she continues with a falterin' voice, "I've always had faith in my husband and I still do. But if he was at fault in this instance then we all are at fault. Your father left us a heritage of wealth and power and land, and he also left us his obligations.

"Jarrod?" she says, havin' come to a decision.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Fight Sam Hummel with everything we've got," she says, steel in her voice.

"Yes, Mother," he says, lookin' after her as she sails out of the room in a swirl of silken skirts.

Miss Audra stands for a moment, lookin' from one of her brothers to the next, then runs out after her.

"Well, Heath," Mr. Jarrod says, goin' to the liquor table and pourin' drinks, "that was quite an entrance." He offers his brothers a glass.

Mr. Nick accepts, while Mr. Heath stands stubbornly at the mantel.

"You think that's what it was?" he says. "A performance?"

"No," Mr. Jarrod says slowly, "I know you're upset - and rightfully so, if what you're saying is true."

"I was there, Jarrod."

"We know you were," Mr. Nick rumbles. "What Jarrod is trying to tell you is that it wasn't necessary to talk like that to Mother. Rage at us all you like, neither of us has a problem with that, but leave Mother out of it."

Mr. Heath hangs his head, studyin' the carpet, then lookin' up again, says, "You're right. I'm sorry. I'll apologize."

"There'll be time enough for that tomorrow," Mr. Jarrod says soothingly, crossin' the room to where Mr. Heath is standin' and pushin' the glass into his hands. "And as for Father, Heath, don't put all the blame on him. He's been dead for over six years now, so how do you expect him to do anything about keeping his promises? No, if anyone is to blame, it's me. I'm handling the business end of the estate and, quite obviously, I haven't done my job. I've never been up to Camp Lonesome and I don't think Nick has either."

Mr. Nick shakes his head.

"It just never occurred to me that the situation up there could be so desperate."

"It is. Trust me on that," Mr. Heath says softly.

"I do, my boy, I do. It's just that there was nothing about promises made in the documents regarding the mine. And no one ever complained before. So, how was I to know? Perhaps Father should have put something in writing, but he was only fifty-seven when he died and healthy. He could well have expected to live another ten if not twenty years, if he hadn't been shot down. So, he probably saw no need for that. Perhaps what we should do when this is all over, is a survey on all our mining operations to guarantee nothing like this happens again, what do you say?"

Mr. Heath jus' nods, his eyes on Mr. Jarrod.

"And it seems to me we have just the man for this job right here. What do you think, Nick?"

I half expect Mr. Nick to remind Mr. Jarrod that Mr. Heath's workin' for him, but he surprises me again.

"Right," he says, slappin' Mr. Heath on the back.

"Agreed?" asks Mr. Jarrod, risin' his glass.

"Agreed," Mr. Heath and Mr. Nick say, and they seal it tossin' back their drinks.

"Well, then, gentlemen, let's call it a day," says Mr. Jarrod and followin' his lead they leave me alone in my corner and I start breathin' again.

I go 'bout collectin' the cups and glasses, stackin' them on the coffee tray, all the while shakin' my head.

"You done cast a mighty big shadow, Mr. Tom," I say to the portrait when I'm leavin, "but they're doin' the best they can."

**********

The next mornin' at breakfast Mr. Heath makes good on his promise.

"Ma'am, about yesterday," he starts, as soon as everyone done sat down, "I'm sorry. Not about what I told you, because it's true. But about the way I said it. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I apologize." He looks at her frankly.

She studies him for a moment, then pats his hand.

"You're forgiven, dear," she says. "You were upset and you have every right to be. But never, you hear, never protect me from the truth. Although I will appreciate it, if you will inform me in a less angry manner in the future. We're not your enemies, Heath. We're your family. And if this family has done wrong, however unwillingly or unknowingly, we will make it right again. - Jarrod?"

"Yes, Mother," he smiles at her. "I'll start today gathering proxies from the minority shareholders."

"Murdoch mentioned he's got five thousand shares, but he has given his proxy to Hummel," says Mr. Heath slowly, twistin' his coffee cup back and forth between his hands. "Perhaps I should go back and try to change his mind."

"Not alone," Mr. Nick cuts in. "You mentioned men with ropes. We can't have our new mine surveyor lynched, can we now?"

"Well," Mr. Jarrod, he says, "Murdoch's five thousand shares would surely be welcome."

"Mine surveyor?" asks Miss Audra.

"Yes," answers Mr. Jarrod, "we have decided that Heath shall do a complete survey of all our mining operations as soon as this mess is dealt with. If this situation has taught me anything, it is that we can't rely on paperwork alone. We need someone on site to tell us what is truly going on. - That is, if you agree, Mother?"

"I think it's an excellent idea," says Miz Victoria smilin', and turnin' to Mr. Heath goes on, "and I can't think of anyone more suited to the task than you with all the experience you've had."

He returns her smile, and drops his gaze to his plate, blushin'. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Well, then, what do you say we take this day to get some ranch work done and start out tomorrow mornin'?" suggests Mr. Nick.

"Fine with me, Nick," says Mr. Heath, lookin' a mite surprised to be actually asked for his opinion instead of jus' bein' told what to do.

**********

Another three days later Mr. Nick returns home late in the evenin' with Mr. Jarrod.

"Mother! Audra! Fifty-five percent!" he hollers as soon as he enters the house.

"Wonderful news, dear Nick," Miz Victoria shouts back from the parlor where she's sittin' with Miss Audra. "Do come in and tell us more about it."

"Good evening, Mother," says Mr. Jarrod, steppin' into the parlor and kissin' her cheek. "Audra."

"Does that mean we control the mine now?" asks Miss Audra.

"That it does, Hon," says Mr. Jarrod. "Nick's brought back Mr. Murdoch's proxy which means we now have the means to release Mr. Hummel from management."

Mr. Nick comes struttin' in, spurs jinglin', and after kissin' his mother and sister, throws himself into a chair, while Mr. Jarrod pours drinks.

"It was even worse than I expected," he declares, shakin' his head. "When we got to Lonesome Camp yesterday, we were smack in the middle of a full blown riot."

Mr. Jarrod gives him his glass and stands at the fireplace, drinkin' his Scotch.

"Riot?" says Miz Victoria, dismayed.

"Yeah. Hummel's strikebreakin' Chinese were bein' sneaked in, and the miners had overturned their wagons and were bludgeonin' the Chinese and everyone else they could get their hands on, throwin' stones at the guards at the compound. The guards opened fire and quite a few people were wounded. Men and women."

"Oh my goodness!" cries Miss Audra, lettin' her needlework drop into her lap.

"Yeah. You can imagine what Heath had to say about that. Thankfully Murdoch stopped the guards, but it was too late to avoid bloodshed. The good thing was, though, that Murdoch had such a bad conscience because of it all that he signed over his proxy without protest. So, I took off this mornin' and brought it to Jarrod's office in Stockton right away."

"And what about Heath?" asks Miz Victoria worriedly.

"Oh, he stayed on. But he'll stay inside the camp ground. The town's not safe to be in at the moment," says Mr. Nick.

"So, tomorrow I'll call a full shareholders' meeting, release Hummel from his duties and take over management myself," states Mr. Jarrod. "Then we can start putting things to rights again, beginning with fortifying the timbering in the mine. As soon as that's done we can start producing again. Then we have to repair the houses, look what can be done about the company store and the schooling, help for the elderly and the crippled and so on. There's quite a lot to do."

"You bet there's enough work for everyone who's willin'," says Mr. Nick satisfied. "Which is good, because as soon as we had his proxy, Heath started grillin' Murdoch about what to do about the Chinese." He shakes his head again. "I swear..." he grumbles and downs his drink.

**********

After dinner when I've washed and cleared the dishes I go visitin' with Sal Li. He's still in the cookhouse jus' finishin' his own clearin' up, all the while mutterin' to himself. I join him at the sink, grab a dish cloth and give him a hand dryin' the dishes.

"Nee how," I say.

"Ne hao," he answers, brandishin' a great brass ladle like a sword of justice. "New hand. My kitchen. My pots!"

Oh, my. It's true Mr. Nick done hired a new man - and it seems like all new hands before him he already done learned the painful lesson that you don't sneak a peek into Sal Li's pots. He's only half as big as most of them, but he's got no qualms 'bout rappin' them on the knuckles, if need be. Wields a mean wooden spoon, Sal Li does.

"Whele golden dlagon?" he demands, still cross with the world at large.

"Mr. Heath's up at Camp Lonesome," I tell him, dryin' one of the thirty or more tin plates stacked in the drainer.

"Ha!" he says. "What do?"

"Uh, he's lookin' after the mine and the miners, seein' that everythin's set to rights again. You know, there been a strike. And he been made surveyor of all minin' operations, which means he'll be gone for quite a while after this job's finished, I'm afraid."

"So," he says, noddin', although I'm not always quite sure that he understands everything I tell him. "He good?"

"Oh, yes," I say, "I thinks he's very good."

That mollifies him and he grins happily while we're dryin' the last of the dishes.

**********

A few days later Mr. Jarrod reports to his family after dinner in the library. "Well, that went better than expected," he says, as I fill his coffee cup. "The stock holders weren't too happy that the decrease in producing costs Hummel promised them won't happen now, and that, in fact, we're facing unexpected costs for replacing timbering and so on. On the other hand, the value of the shares should rise to it's pre-strike height when we start producing again and improved safety conditions and a content work force will help raise the overall value of the property." He takes a sip. "So, I'm authorized to proceed as I see fit, which means I can now get down to meeting the miners and set up a plan of action. I've wired Heath that I'll arrive at Camp Lonesome tomorrow or the day after and then we'll see where we go from there. You with me, brother Nick?"

"Damn sure I am! - Sorry, Mother!" Mr. Nick exclaims, bangin' his coffee spoon on the table.

"I'm glad to hear it, Jarrod," says Miz Victoria, "and bring your brother back home, you hear? I can't help it, but I worry about him all alone up there."

"We will, Mother," Mr. Jarrod, he says, "but you do realize, don't you, that he will be away for quite a while when he goes on a tour inspecting our mining operations?"

"Whatever made me agree to that?" grumbles Mr. Nick. "I'll be a man short when he's gallivantin' all over the country."

"I'm sure the ranch will survive it, Nick," says Mr. Jarrod. "Just hire another man for the time he's gone."

"One new man won't cut it," protests Mr. Nick.

'Tis 'bout time he realizes that!

"Well, he'll be done before calving season, I think," Mr. Jarrod advises. "Speaking for myself I'm rather happy with this solution. It gives him more responsibility, which he needs, and his expertise can be a real asset to us. I don't want him to become discontent because you keep him on too short a leash all the time."

"Ha!" says Mr. Nick, "What are you sayin'?"

"That you tend to boss him around a lot."

"Well, I put him through his paces in the beginnin', I admit that much," says Mr. Nick, "'cause I had to see what he can do. And I'm still showin' him the ropes. He's new here, after all, and he's never bossed a ranch before."

"And he bows to your authority quite nicely, doesn't he," Mr. Jarrod says smilin'.

"As well he should," growls Mr. Nick.

"Well, yes," agrees Mr. Jarrod, "but don't you forget that in the end he should become your partner, not your lackey."

Mr. Nick snorts and Miz Victoria steps in before they can start quarrelin' with each other, sayin', "It seems to me that we have found a very good solution for the moment. Would you like me to replenish your coffee, dear?"

**********

Mr. Jarrod and Mr. Nick leave in the mornin' and when they return a week later they bring Mr. Heath with them. They're all tired and dusty from bein' in the saddle the whole day and I'm jus' glad that we done got a wire beforehand to let us know when they was comin', 'cause that way I done had time to prepare a mighty good dinner, steaks and several sorts of greens and mashed potatoes and a great big apple pie for afters.

So, when they've cleaned up a bit and they're all seated 'round the table in the dinin' room, Miz Victoria, she says, "Oh, it's good to have you all back! And after dinner you must tell us what you have achieved in Camp Lonesome. Audra and I can hardly wait to hear."

Looks like they all have a good appetite and Mr. Heath says to me, "I've sure missed your cookin', Silas. This..." he brandishes his fork with a piece of juicy steak, "...is a lot better than cold mutton!"

Well, I dare say it is! Cold mutton? I ask you!

After dinner they retire to the library for coffee and I follow with my big silver tray. As I hand out coffee cups, Mr. Nick falls into one of them red velvet chairs, sayin, "Drat, but it's good to be home! I'll take a big piece of that pie, Silas!"

I know that much.

"So, is everything well at the mine now?" asks Miz Victoria, sittin' on her usual place on the settee with Miss Audra. "Did you talk to the miners?"

"Well," says Mr. Jarrod, standin' at the fire place, "I'd say yes. We had a meeting and were able to establish a kind of relationship. Of course, they're still a bit suspicious, but we stayed long enough to see work on the timbering beginning and have come to an agreement regarding the housing situation, the store and so on. Of course, Heath here had quite an adventure before Nick and I even arrived there."

"I still say we shouldn't have been so easy on the people involved in the bombin'," mumbles Mr. Nick through a bite of apple pie.

"There was no bombin', Nick," Mr. Heath contradicts him, acceptin' a plate with a big piece of pie from me.

"Only because you got to it in time," says Mr. Nick, "otherwise: BOOM!" He's spoutin' crumbles and wipin' them off his shirt front.

"What bombing?" asks Miss Audra, alarmed.

"No bombin'," Mr. Heath insists. And when they all look at him expectantly, he goes on, "Well, when I was at Lonesome the first time I met an old friend of mine, Dion O'Doul. At least I thought he was my friend." He lets his fork sink on his plate and stares into the fire for a moment, then goes on, "Turned out he was the leader of the local Molly Maguires."

"The ones that wanted to hang you?" asks Miz Victoria in dismay.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Not so good a friend after all."

"Where did you know him from, Heath?" asks Mr. Jarrod calmly.

"We used to work together in Angels Camp and a few other places. I thought I knew him pretty well."

"But...?" says Miz Victoria.

"Well, as soon as I got the wire from Jarrod that he'd taken over management, I tried to tell him that the strike was over, that we'd meet their demands -"

"Demands!" growls Mr. Nick.

" - and that there would be a lot of improvements, if they'd just wait. But he wouldn't let it go. So, they made up some scheme to have one of theirs buried in the mine cemetery and apparently Dion hid in the coffin to smuggle a stack of dynamite inside. He had some crazy plan to blow up the whole mine. But Bridey got wind of it and informed me."

"Bridey?" asks Miss Audra.

"A girl I met there," Mr. Heath says.

"Hear, hear!" exclaims Mr. Nick.

"And a very pretty girl," Mr. Jarrod says amused.

"Nothing about 'hear, hear'", Mr. Heath says firmly and shoots a dagger look at Mr. Nick. "I went after Dion into the mine and could stop the dynamite from goin' off -"

"After your 'friend' had already sparked it," completes Mr. Nick.

Miz Victoria sets her cup down and stares at Mr. Heath.

"Listen," says he wearily, "do you want to tell it? Then go ahead."

Mr. Nick waves him off.

"We grappled and a shot got loose and he was killed. I didn't want that. But that's the short of it - and if you'll excuse me, I think I'm goin' to bed now."

He gets up and leaves, throwin' a "See you in the mornin'," over his shoulder. He din't even finish his apple pie.

"Well done, Nick," says Mr. Jarrod dryly and sits down in Mr. Heath's vacated chair.

"How is this my fault?" Mr. Nick asks querulous.

"How awful that he accidentally killed his friend," says Miss Audra, her voice chokin'. And gettin' up and rushin' out she adds, "I think I'll go after him, perhaps he'll talk to me."

"Oh, dear," says Miz Victoria. "I begin to see there's far more behind this than we've been told."

"Indeed," Mr. Jarrod agrees, "and I was hoping to get him to tell us a bit more. We still don't know much about his past and getting something out of him is like pulling teeth."

"His past is his business," Mr. Nick says sharply, sitting' up.

"Well, yes and no, it's his business, but it also affects us, don't you see? And don't tell me you're not curious, brother Nick. I think this whole experience was quite hard on him. A few months before he would have been on the other side of the fence. And to meet someone he once knew and had to fight now can't have been easy. He handled the situation admirably though, and I think the success we've had in our negotiations with the miners' committee was largely due to his midway position. People recognized him as one of theirs and trusted him. More than us anyway. He's a good negotiator and quite shrewd. I didn't know that about him."

"We're still learning about him," Miz Victoria says pensive, "and there's a lot we don't know."

"I know that this ranch isn't goin' to produce anything by itself," states Mr. Nick, "and I for one have had enough of sittin' around talkin'. So, tomorrow it's up and at it again!"

He gets up, kisses his mother and leaves, but not without cuttin' up another piece of pie and takin' it with him.

Mr. Jarrod sighs and stares into his empty cup.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" asks Miz Victoria, while I fill Mr. Jarrod's coffee cup again.

"Thank you, Silas," he says and then confides to his mother, "Uh, I can't help thinking that this boy could have become anything he wanted to be, if he'd had the advantages of a formal education, you know."

She looks at him a moment, ponderin' this, and says smilin', "A lawyer perhaps?"

He laughs softly and answers, "Why not? But I think two bookworms like Eugene and me are quite enough for one family, aren't they? Nick certainly thinks so."

"Yes, I think he does," she agrees and goes on, "I don't know though that Heath would be happy sitting behind a desk all day."

"Well, that's just the thing. We can't know how he would have developed, if he had grown up here with us - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"That's quite all right, sweetheart. I've been thinking about that myself, from time to time. - I do think though that Heath is quite content with what he is, and I'm very happy for Nick to have someone by his side he can share the ranch work with. He missed your father, you know. I'm glad he's finally warming to Heath. He needs him more than he's aware he does."

"You're a wise woman, lovely lady," Mr. Jarrod says warmly. "Yes, they complement each other beautifully and maybe Nick is beginning to see that. It was a gamble taking him in, but it has paid off well, I think."

"I've often wondered what made you go along with it so easily, when at first you were as determined as Nick to deny his claim?" Miz Victoria asks hesitant-like.

Mr. Jarrod gets up and gets himself a cognac from the liquor table, askin' his mother with a raised eyebrow if she wishes to join him. She nods and he brings her back a sherry.

Sittin' down opposite her again, he says, "I could have denied him, perhaps, but not you. And I knew from the moment you mentioned how much he resembled Father that you wouldn't let him go."

"You're right," she agrees, "though it hurt me, I think I loved him from the moment I first saw him. It was as if a part of your father had come back to me. No, I wouldn't have let him go. That was selfish of me, wasn't it?"

"No," Mr. Jarrod says gently. "It was the right thing to do and very brave. But, how do you feel about it now?"

There's a moment's silence and then Miz Victoria says, "I think I have begun to love him for himself. He is like Tom in many ways, but he also is quite different. It was the right thing to do to take him in, I believe that with all my heart, but it could have gone so terribly wrong. I am grateful it hasn't, and that is to a great extent due to the way he treats my children. He's respectful towards his elder brothers - and I know it hasn't always been easy where Nick is concerned - Audra loves him already and he's a good friend to Eugene. Yes, I'm glad we did the right thing. It's turning out to be more than its own reward. - And you? What do you feel, sweetheart?"

Mr. Jarrod studies the amber liquid in his brandy snifter then says slowly, "I do not feel for him the same way I do for Nick, Audra or Eugene. Not yet. But I'm terribly fond of him and I feel... a growing tenderness towards him. I don't know why that is. Perhaps because he's been denied so many things we've always taken for granted. And I do respect him. Not only because he's courageous and honest and a hard worker, but also because he has a good head on his shoulders. He turned out to be more than I expected. And I love that he makes you happy, Mother. So, yes, I'm glad he's here, too."

"Now, if only I could think of something to stop him calling me ma'am..." she says, shakin' her head.

Mr. Jarrod chuckles softly. "It'll come with time," he says.

And so, as everything's said and done, I retire to my kitchen. The situation at the Barkley Sierra mine been set to rights and Mr. Heath's survey will ensure that nothin' like it will happen again. The family's content. All's right with the world for the moment.

So, if now jus' someone would 'splain 'bout the elephant?


End file.
